


Nick & June Ficlets

by Loth-Cat (Starbird)



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Belly Rubs, Blatant Use of Series Quotes, During 2x09 and Before 2x10, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Instrospection, Jealousy, Pregnant Sex, Waterford Being a Creepy Fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbird/pseuds/Loth-Cat
Summary: A collection of unrelated ficlets.





	1. Oh, Canada: Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Luke talk again after the bar. When Nick comes home afterward and gives June Luke’s message, he wonders if he’s who she really wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick’s POV. I know this isn’t plausible, but I LIVE for this episode and the (too brief!) Nick/Luke interactions! Again, PLMK if I get quotes wrong!
> 
> BTW, the beginning did not turn out like I’d hoped, and I’m sorry. I’m going through Some Real Shit rn, so my writing isn’t up to par. :(

He’s smoking a cigarette outside the hotel when he sees him. June’s husband. Edging into the light from the shadows. Nick could’ve smoked on the balcony of the room that connected to the Waterfords’ suite, but he didn’t want to be around them right now. Right now, it was too much.

Nick squints to be absolutely sure it’s Luke, pinching the cigarette between forefinger and thumb. What does _he_ want? Nick just left him at the bar an hour ago. There’s nothing more he can give him, and furthermore, Nick doesn’t want to talk to him.

Luke jerks his head to the side, and he turns his back.

Nick sighs, throws his cigarette at the ground, crushes it with the toe of his dress shoe. _Fuck._ He disposes of the butt and follows.

Luke is carefully hidden around the side of the hotel. “I need more,” he says, no preamble, no forced politeness. His hands are stuffed in his jacket, his jaw is set.

Nick has nothing more to give him, and he says as much. “I don’t have anything else.”

Luke shifts restlessly. He looks like he’s about to punch Nick out. His breath smells of alcohol still. “You said you’re my wife’s friend.”

_My wife._

Nick’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

“She’s there because of me,” Luke says, nodding earnestly, full of self-blame. “Because I wasn’t the best person.”

Nick doesn’t know why Luke is telling him this, and he wishes he’d stop.

_You tell her that I love her, and I’ll never stop._

“She’s going to be out of there someday. Away from you people.”

_I’m not one of them._

Nick holds his tongue. Thinks about the family photo Luke was holding up, of the three of them together. June looked so happy. The three of them. Together. _A family._

No place for him.

“How far along is she?” Luke asks.

“Almost at the end,” Nick says. He really has no idea, to be honest. They don’t tell him anything.

“Has it been okay?” He’s worried. “It was good with Hannah, but I know it isn’t for all pregnancies. Especially if…if it’s someone else’s. With Hannah she really liked bacon.”

Bacon. Nick’s heart thumps at this shred of information. Had June craved anything during this pregnancy? They never got to talk about it much.

Luke looks away and scuffs his fingers on the side of the building. “She looked pretty. Like that. We wanted more, but… And now…that he did this to her…that she was forced into this with someone she hates…”

Nick can’t listen to any more of this. “I have to go,” he says, backing away. “I need to get back.”

“Right.”

Nick turns away, ready for the evening to be over, the whole trip, ready for –

“Do you have kids?” Luke suddenly asks from behind him, and Nick stops dead. He goes cold. He doesn’t turn around.

“No,” he says. His voice is too loud, too hollow, in the darkness. It’s got an odd quality to it, and he doesn’t like it.

“Maybe someday.”

“Yes, if…” What’s the right answer? What is it he’s been conditioned to say? His brain can’t think right now. “If God blesses us.”

_By the grace of God, I’ll have a child of my own someday._

He walks away, and the cold of the Canadian night bites deeper into his skin.

* * *

_I should go… Eden’s probably wondering…_

June hadn’t even stopped him. Hadn’t tried to get him to stay.

_She wouldn’t have anyway. It’s too dangerous._

Nick tries to rationalize it to himself as he walks slowly back to his apartment in the dark. The reality right now is that June was so overwhelmed by her husband’s words that she didn’t want Nick to stay. Didn’t want him around.

_I love you._

Despite her nuzzling into him after that.

Nick lingers at the bottom of the steps, taking an extra-long drag on his cigarette. He dreads going upstairs, dreads seeing his “wife” again.

Fifteen. She’s fucking _fifteen_.

The cigarette ends too quickly, and he has no more excuses. He climbs the stairs, exhausted all of a sudden, and lets himself in. The apartment is mostly dark, just one dim lamp on. Eden is already in bed, but she stirs when the door opens.

“You’re home,” she says with a smile, sitting up and making to get out of bed.

“No, don’t get up,” Nick says. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

She obeys. He hates that. “You didn’t,” she says. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Neither could June.

“How was your trip? I bet Canada is pretty this time of year.”

“Yeah, it was nice.” He shrugs out of his coat and suit jacket and starts undoing his tie.

“Did you like the cookies?”

He hadn’t eaten them. “They were great.”

Nick finishes undressing in silence, down to his shorts and undershirt, and starts hanging up his clothes. She watches openly – he can feel her eyes on him – and his skin prickles. He is so self-conscious around her. He was only a couple years older than her when he started having sex himself, but she’s a child. An _actual_ child, who should be out with her friends at the mall, texting about…what did fifteen-year-old girls text about? Did she even have friends?

Nick looks over his shoulder at her, frowning. She’s still smiling at him, hands clasped together in her lap. She is unashamed.

“I missed you,” she says.

“Thanks.” It’s an asshole answer. He knows it stings. He hates himself for it, yet at the same time, he can’t pretend any more than he has to about this. Is it crueler to pretend more or pretend less?

“I was thinking…we could try again tonight,” Eden says in her hopeful little voice. “I’ve been talking to Mrs. Waterford about how a woman knows when the time is right, and I think it is. I think I’m fertile.”

Nick feels sick. He doesn’t _want_ to “try.” She’s young enough to be his daughter! She deserves so much better than this life.

Turning away from the closet, Nick comes over to his side of the bed. “I’m really tired,” he says truthfully.

Eden won’t stop smiling, still so full of hope, but he knows there’s pain behind it, too. The pain of constant rejection by the man she wants so desperately to love her and make a family with her. She reaches out to his bare arm and rubs. “It’s okay. I can take care of you.”

Take care of him… What does _she_ know about “taking care of” a man? A fully grown, thirty-five-year-old man? She knows nothing about his needs or wants or likes or dislikes. Fifteen-year-old girls should have awkward boys groping at them and getting embarrassed about it, not trying to get pregnant by men more than twice their age.

Nick gets into bed and turns deliberately away from her. “Not tonight.”

He leaves her to get out of bed and switch off the light. He hopes the sound he hears from her is not the sound of crying.

* * *

Eden is blissfully gone around mid-morning, on a visit to see baby Angela Putnam with Serena. She can get her baby fix then, and hopefully leave him alone for another couple days.

Or, who knows, it might make her worse. Nick wonders if he can come down with a cold between now and tonight. If she thinks she’s ovulating, he does _not_ want to be near her given how quickly June got pregnant.

June is in the kitchen when he comes in for lunch. The sunlight is hitting her just right, and she is, she’s _glowing_ , just like people always said about pregnant women. He’s struck, then, by how _beautiful_ she looks, by how in love he is with her.

Luke loves her, too.

He suddenly _hates_ Luke.

Luke who found her first, Luke who made love to her first, Luke who probably has a better education and more privilege than he does.

Luke who is legally married to her.

Luke who made her a Handmaid.

Nick relaxes his clenched fist and goes into the kitchen. June is daydreaming, he can tell, but she looks up with a distracted smile.

“Smells good,” he says to Rita.

“No thanks to Eden,” she replies sourly. “She left early.”

He doesn’t respond to that. Just takes his plate and goes back out to the table to sit down by himself.

Rita heaves a sigh. “I need to clean the sitting room,” she says. “I don’t think I can put it off any longer.”

“Yeah, not a good idea,” June says.

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.”

Rita leaves, and the kitchen is silent except for the sound of silverware on china. June does not come over to eat with Nick, and he glances up at her. She’s stopped eating and is staring at the wall, a smile on her face.

She must be thinking about him.

Without thinking, Nick slams his fork and knife down on his plate loud enough to make her jump, and he shoves his chair back. His appetite is gone. He stalks to the kitchen and dumps his plate in the sink, where it lands with a clatter. It’s not her fault, and he shouldn’t be angry, but he can’t help it.

“Nick, what – ” June says from behind him as he turns to storm out.

“Forgot something I have to do,” he lies, he _lies_ to her. He pushes the door open and steps outside.

“No, that’s not…” She trails off, and when he turns around to look at her coming out after him, holding her stomach and carefully making her way down the steps, guilt washes all over him. He’s a terrible person. Closing his eyes with a sigh, his anger and jealousy dissipate and he goes back toward the house. June steps back inside with him, his arm around her back to steady her.

“What is it?” she asks, looking concerned.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, because what else is he supposed to _say_? “It’s nothing.” Nick reaches up to put his hand on her face; he can’t help himself. His lips compress as he looks into her eyes, blue and open. “I missed you. I thought about…if you and I were there…”

June smiles back at him. “I did, too. I pretended you were apartment-hunting.”

Then a smile rises to his face. They’ve talked about the future before, very briefly, but it helps so much to hear her talk about it again. Because the reality is that she does still have a husband; Nick is merely a lover. When this is all over…will she go back to Luke?

“You look so beautiful,” Nick says. “Like this. With our baby.”

“Oh.” June looks down and holds her belly in her hands, then looks back up at him with that look that says she’s about to make a joke. “I feel like a cow. And these, well…” She gestures to her breasts. “Cow machine.” Then she winces. “Baby girl’s awake. Always is around you. I think she likes your voice.” She caresses her stomach, head bent down again. “That’s your daddy, little girl. He has a nice voice, doesn’t he?”

Then June takes Nick’s hand and places it gently against her, and he feels it for the first time: a little jump, right against his palm. He lets out an incredulous gasp. Overwhelmed, he sinks to his knees in front of her, both hands on her belly, ear pressed against it.

 _Baby girl,_ he thinks, because they’re both sure now that they’re having a girl, for whatever reason. _Hi._

Nick swallows hard, closes his eyes, and presses his forehead to June’s stomach. Her hand cups the back of his head, gently stroking her fingers through his hair. Nick gets up and looks at her with a smile, and her eyes are a little watery.

“I recorded my stomach moving when I was pregnant with Hannah,” June says thinly. He knows her well enough to know she’s on the verge of tears. How does he already know her so well? “I wish I could do that with her so we can show her later.”

There she goes again, talking about a future with him. A _later_.

“Did you…want kids?” she asks.

Nick nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak right now.

June’s smile grows wider. “Then I’m glad. That this happened. With you.”

She takes his hand and kisses the pads of his fingers, then places them over her heart.

Nick is glad it happened, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may have a part 2. I couldn't decide on it. And I wanted to get this posted! (Thanks to @crollah for the encouragement!)


	2. Oh, Canada: Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena and Eden care for a sick Mrs. Spencer, leaving Waterford to mess with Nick and June at home. But in the end, he’s still nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still Nick’s POV. I was considering having this part in the original work, but couldn’t decide. Guess I’m doing it now!
> 
> This was going to be sweeter but turned dirtier thanks to [Dystopian_Dramaqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen). Thanks a LOT. xD

Mrs. Spencer comes down sick that evening. One of those really nasty bugs that has become more common in the last ten years. It hits you out of nowhere and knocks you out for twenty-four hours, if you even survive. Eden is worried, fussing, wringing her hands, torn between her duty to her husband and her duty to her mother. Serena takes pity on her and tells her to go to her mother.

Nick drives them, Eden praying the whole time with bowed head. Nick says a quick prayer himself, or what passes for a prayer with him anymore. It’s not really his thing, but he wishes Mrs. Spencer well. Gilead has perverted religion beyond what he can bear (wasn’t something like that a passage from 1 Corinthians?), so much that he can’t believe anymore. He misses the days when he could.

They pull into the dirt drive of the Spencers’ farmhouse. Nick gets out to open the doors, and Eden stands there sniffling. He should hug her. Offer her comfort. Do _something_ human.

He stands there, too.

 _“Nick,”_ Serena scolds, low and sharp. Disappointed. Eden, though, is distracted and walks past him, hunched into herself, going up the walk toward the front door. “We should only be a few hours. Mind Fred, please. He worries when I’m gone.”

 _He does not,_ Nick thinks.

He nods and gets back in the car. Eden’s eyes meet his, and he nods at her, too. It’s the least he can do.

 

The Waterford house is still when Nick returns. He backs the car into the garage, locks it, puts the door down, pockets the keys. He needs to check in with Waterford, so he goes inside, hating the quiet. It feels like something is off.

When he enters the sitting room, he sees why. Waterford is sitting on the arm of the couch with June, hands folded on his thigh, chatting with a smile on his face like this is all so pleasant. June is either playing her role well, head bowed and eyes on the ground, or she genuinely can’t bear to look at him. It is probably a combination of both.

“Ah, Nick, you’re back,” Waterford says.

“Yes, sir.” His eyes dart to June, but she doesn’t look up at him. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. Waterford stands and smoothly steps behind her, backlit in orange by the blazing fire, like a demon. It’s too hot in this room.

Waterford sweeps his hands across the tops of June’s shoulders, as if smoothing her red dress. She keeps her eyes on the floor, still, unmoving as a statue.

“We have a night to ourselves, it would seem,” Waterford says. “Just the three of us. Doesn’t that sound lovely? I’ve asked Rita to bring us some snacks in here. She should be along any minute.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nick doesn’t want to stay, sensing this is another mind-game of the Commander’s, but he can’t excuse himself, and furthermore, he can’t just leave June alone with the bastard. Who knows what he’ll do.

Rita walks in right on cue, bearing a tray of crackers, cheese, cured meats, and sliced fruit. She sets it down on a side table without a word and leaves.

Waterford picks up a thick piece of summer sausage. “No meats for you,” he comments with a smile, shaking it in June’s face. “Dangerous for our baby.”

 _Our baby._ Nick’s jaw clenches.

Waterford reaches out with the hand not holding his stupid snack and runs his fingers down June’s prominent belly. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, and Nick wonders if the Commander has forgotten he’s here. But no…this is a mind-game. A mind-fuck. A show of power. Waterford knows exactly what he is doing, even if he’s caught up in getting off on it.

Nick squeezes his hands together at his back.

“She does look beautiful, doesn’t she, Nick?” Waterford says.

“It’s not my place to say, sir,” Nick says.

“Pregnancy…becomes a woman. Don’t you think?”

“All by His Hand, for the good of the country, sir.”

It’s a contest of wills, and Nick’s not sure who’s winning. He doesn’t even want to be playing.

Waterford is now in front of June, hands on either side of her stomach. Nick’s jaw clenches together again so hard it hurts. Those should be _his_ hands. June shouldn’t have to suffer this.

“This is right,” Waterford purrs to June. “You, carrying our baby.”

June finally raises her head. Looks him in the eye. “Whose?” she says shortly, daring, bold.

Nick can’t see the Commander’s expression.

“Yours and mine,” he says. “Serena’s.” Then he turns around to look at Nick. “I think he’ll look like me. Don’t you?”

Nick doesn’t even reply.

 

Waterford fucks around for another half hour or so, chatting business, before he lets them go and retires to his study. Nick and June part ways, but not before exchanging a glance.

 _Come see me,_ he begs silently with his eyes. _Please. I need to see you again._

Her mouth parts slightly. _I was already going to,_ he hopes she says.

He’s only in his apartment ten minutes before the knock comes.

“June,” he breathes once the door is shut and she’s in his arms again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers back. “He’s just rubbing your face in it.” Then she pulls back and starts kissing him, and he knows that kiss. Her hands grab at his clothes.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupts, looking her in the eye. “Are you sure this is okay? For the baby?”

June smiles knowingly at him. “Sex at the end of pregnancy being dangerous is a myth. Ever hear about the second trimester, by the way?” Nick shakes his head, and June leans in close. “That’s when women are the horniest. It was a rough time for me.”

Well, dammit if he isn’t getting hard already hearing that. He doesn’t want to want her like this – it feels wrong, a violation somehow – but she’s beautiful and stripping off her clothes and when they’re at his bed and he sees her naked before him, fully pregnant, he becomes achingly hard at the sight. But he lays his hands on her stomach gently, kissing the roundness of it, longing to feel the baby jump against him again. He knows from earlier that she’s a little self-conscious of how she looks, and the fact that she’s revealing herself to him like this is… _incredible_. Overwhelming. Too much. Feeling her belly rub against his as they kiss, he thinks he will never forget these moments tonight.

June climbs onto the bed on hands and knees, and Nick follows her. They carefully lie down on their sides together, her back to his chest, and he must sound different this time when he enters her, because she chuckles.

“Wetter, too,” she says. “During pregnancy. You missed out.”

She doesn’t mean it the heavy way it lands, but all the same, he feels the tension in her body once she says it.

“I know,” he says, kissing her shoulder. “I know. Maybe next time, I won’t.”

Stupid, to say something like that. What is he thinking? But June makes this little sound, sweet, and her head falls back against his shoulder as he begins to move. She’s right: she’s so slick, slicker than he’s ever felt her. His hand wanders down her arm to her hand, resting over her belly, and he interlaces their fingers. He tilts his head down, forehead to her shoulder, eyes closing, and wishes their story had some other ending, some other path. That it had been anything but this. He feels overly emotional, overcome, shaky. His hand is squeezing hers too tight.

“I’m going to come,” she says tightly. Her body shifts, trying to find the exact right angle, and he gently urges her over onto her hands and knees. When he thrusts in again and goes even deeper he groans at the feeling, his heart beating too fast.

June’s head is bent down to the coverlet on her folded hands. “Harder. Harder.”

“I don’t want to hurt – ”

“It’s a myth, it’s a myth.” He knows from the way she’s babbling that she’s really close, desperate, but can’t quite get there. “Jesus, Nick, _fuck me_!”

He can’t bear to go as hard as they have in the past, but he does pick up his pace and skate his fingers across her clit. She’s restraining noises now, lips clamped tightly together, and her breathing is hitching, tight, short…

Fuck. He’s not going to make it himself.

“June…shit,” he says. _“Shit.”_

This isn’t like him, to lose control. Even in the bedroom. He’s kicking himself for allowing himself to.

June’s hand snaps back to his thigh and squeezes, nails digging in. “Don’t you dare.” She starts rocking hard on him, body clenched around his cock, and he really doesn’t think he’s going to make it. He rubs faster at her clit, knowing she’s _so so_ close and if she can _just_ –

Then she’s there and stuffing her fist in her mouth, coming hard on him, soaking his cock, his thighs, and it’s too much and he comes right away when he feels it. It blanks his mind and whites out his vision, and for a couple moments, he can’t breathe.

When he’s able to regain his stuttering breath, he wraps his arms around her midsection and holds her gently. She’ll have to go soon, but he indulges himself in a fantasy of her being able to stay. Of this being their apartment somewhere else, somewhere free. Their baby napping while they make love. Hours and hours of making love, caressing each other, not a care in the world except taking care of their baby and going off to whatever jobs they find. He doesn’t even care what job it is. He just wants that life. He wants it so bad it hurts, that it wakes him up at night sometimes, makes him sit up in bed clutching his head holding back a scream of anguish.

Those nights are the worst, the darkest.

For now, they have a few moments. A few moments of light, with each other.

And he’ll take all that he can get.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@sharkraybay](https://sharkraybay.tumblr.com)! Come say hi and scream about this amazing show and ship with me!! <3


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